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“ Fear not thou to loose thy tongue;
Set thy hoary fancies free: What is loathsome to the young
Savours well to thee and me.
“ Change, reverting to the years,
When thy nerves could understand What there is in loving tears,
And the warmth of hand in hand.
“ Tell me tales of thy first love —
April hopes, the fools of chance; Till the graves begin to move,
And the dead begin to dance.
“ Fill the can, and fill the cup:
All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up,
And is lightly laid again,
“ Trooping from their mouldy dens
The chap-fallen circle spreads : Welcome, fellow-citizens,
Hollow hearts and empty heads!
“ You are bones, and what of that?
Every face, however full, Padded round with flesh and fat,
Is but modell’d on a skull.
“Death is king, and Vivat Rex!
Tread a measure on the stones, Madam — if I know your sex,
From the fashion of your bones.
“ No, I cannot praise the fire
In your eye — nor yet your lip : All the more do I admire
Joints of cunning workmanship.
“Lo! God's likeness — the ground-plan
Neither modell’d, glazed, or framed: Buss me, thou rough sketch of man,
Far too naked to be shamed !
“ Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance,
While we keep a little breath! Drink to heavy Ignorance !
Hob-and-nob with brother Death!
“ Thou art mazed, the night is long,
And the longer night is near : What! I am not all as wrong
As a bitter jest is dear.
“ Youthful hopes, by scores, to all,
When the locks are crisp and curld; Unto me my maudlin gall
And my mockeries of the world.
“ Fill the cup, and fill the can!
Mingle madness, mingle scorn!
Yet we will not die forlorn."
The voice grew faint: there came a further change: